Tales from Heritage Farm

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We have several farm cats. You may have heard about Baby, our 3-footed mother cat. Today, I will acquaint you with Pippy.

Pippy came to us several years ago as a teenage or immature cat. She walked on to the farm, not as a wild cat, but rather as one that purred and sought out people. Hence, we imagine that she was raised by someone who may have left her off at the end of our driveway in hopes that she would find a good home. She has stayed with us and seems to like it here.

Pippy displays gray tabby features, but with one unique variation. She has four white “long stockings” on her legs. Those leggings inspired her name. (She reminded me of a children’s book character by the name of “Pippi Longstocking” created by Astrid Lindgren.)

Pippy is responsible for herself. She is well equipped to find her own food, although we do give her milk. She knows how to hunt. One day, I saw her quietly crouching. She had sparrows in her sight. The birds perched on a low bush became her aim. She let out a rush and caught her lunch.

Pippy has stayed with us long enough to provide us with several litters of kittens. She had five little kittens this spring. Four are gray tabby cats and the fifth is a black tabby, resembling its sire.

With her new parental responsibilities, Pippy has to keep up with feeding the youngsters. So evidently, in the morning she is on the hunt. As I walked outdoors, I saw my husband drive by on his tractor. He pointed in the direction of the shed where Pippy’s kittens live. He yelled, “She has a rat!!”

Sure enough, as his tractor moved on down the road, there was Pippy dutifully carrying a huge lunch into her kits. I have seen her deal with mice. But this gigantic rodent was a sight to see. We have more respect for Pippy as we witness her prowess at tackling large game.

Ka-BOOM!! I heard the gun blast outside my window this morning. As the sun rose and exposed the gray landscape, my husband spied a trespasser. He surveyed our garden and there it was…a Rabbit!

Last week we planted our garden. Several of our crops included plants. Young tomatoes, cabbages, brussel sprouts, cauliflower, and broccoli had been neatly placed in rows.

Following that, we went away for a long weekend and came back to the bad news. It had not rained enough to make the plants thrive. Besides that, several young plants, were missing leaves, the work of a ravenous rabbit.

I spend time watering plants in an attempt to help them recover. It became obvious that varmints had “bellied on up to the bar” (my garden), so-to-speak, and got a snoot full of greens. I dusted the surviving vegetables that had been a part of the bunny’s smorgasbord.

The prime offender, the trespasser, is gone now, but there may be others waiting in the wings to move in on her territory; CORRECTION…my territory.

The World Book Dictionary defines trespass as, “1. to go on somebody’s property without any right 2. to go beyond the limits of what is right, proper or polite 3. to do wrong; sin”.

The rabbit did not have a right to my food. She went beyond the limits of what was right and did wrong. And she paid for her misdeeds.

The Bible speaks of how man trespasses against God. Jesus encourages us to pray to the Heavenly Father to forgive us our trespasses. Have you ever thought of how you may have trespassed against Him? Have you gone onto his property without any right. Have you gone beyond the limits of what is right, proper or polite (fitting) in your relationship to Him? Have you done wrong…sinned?

If you have trespassed in any way, you have sinned. In fact, the scripture in Romans 3:23 says, “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” We are guilty. There is a penalty to pay. Romans 6:23 says, “For the wages of sin is death”.

The good news is also in Romans 6:23. It says, “but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Jesus is the answer to our sin problem, our trespass-problem. Come to him for forgiveness and the eternal life He has promised.

“Landmark”, according to World Book Dictionary is, “something familiar or easily seen, used as a guide…” That “something familiar” could be a tree. Beside the farmhouse stands a common sight, our Burr Oak Tree. It has stood the tests of time and weathered much here on Heritage Farm. It’s beauty, strength and shade have graced us in our farmhouse all our married lives. It was here for my husband’s parents’ married lives. It reached back in time to my husband’s grandparents’ time on this sesquicentennial farm.

Burr Oak trees’ lifespans range between 200-400 years. Although we cannot tell how long this tree has towered over the farm, a photograph from 1919 shows it plainly reaching above the farmhouse roof. Generations of Grabau children have frolicked beneath its strong boughs on the swing. It is definitely a familiar site marking our home site.

Although it’s shade has been plentiful during our tenure on Heritage Farm, there are signs that the tree is dying. Large branches lack twigs and leaves. A tell-tale shelf mushroom has taken root at the base of the tree trunk. As spring storms rip through our area, winds can take down weak branches. Being so close to our house, this presents a danger to our home and lives. We have discussed with sorrow, the inevitable . . . the tree’s coming demise.

Though the tree is in decline, it has steadily reproduced itself with fertile acorns. Two of it’s offspring which are nearly twenty years old stand by on two sides of the farmhouse. They will take up the responsibility of protecting and shading us from the summer sun when the parent tree is gone.

It will not be pleasant to say good-bye to the landmark we have revered with affection for all of these years. It is God’s creation for our use and protection. It has faithfully brought us beauty and a canopy that declares to us the glory of God.

Isaiah 55:12 relates one function of trees. “…And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.” This tree has clapped in praise to the Lord for many years. In the days He grants us, let us do likewise.

Since we sold our herd of cows, life has changed quite a lot. We like to drink our own cow’s milk so much that we kept a bred heifer. She had her calf in November and we have been enjoying the milk she produces.

One of the things I have been doing is skimming the cream off of the milk. I save it a couple of days and when I have a several cups of cream I make butter. I put it in my blender and let it whip. It doesn’t take long before the cream turns to butter and buttermilk.

I drain the butter from the buttermilk by putting the butter in a sieve. (I save the buttermilk to make buttermilk bread or buttermilk pancakes.) I press the butter with a wooden paddle or a spoon. That squeezes out any possible pools of buttermilk trapped inside the lumps of butter. If the liquid is left in the butter, it can become quick to sour.

So after pressing the butter several times and pouring off the rivulets of buttermilk, I rinse it with cold water. I press or stir the butter again and rinse. I continue this until the drained water becomes clear.

The butter is now ready to be set aside for later use. I have used cereal bowls to shape the butter and decorated the top with the edge of a spoon. Into the refrigerator it goes, till meal time.

I got a surprise today! My husband came to me bearing gifts. It was a bag of wooden things he had made for me. I looked at it suspecting that it was a puzzle or something. I examined it and put the pieces together. I assembled a little box. It had a handle on the top piece. Out in his wood shop he spent time to make me a butter mold! The mold is collapsible and easy to clean.

I washed the new wood and let it dry. Next, I applied olive oil to the wood to waterproof it. Wow! Now I can prepare butter and press it into a shape that fits easily on my butter dish. I tried it today and it really works!

Having a toddler in our home is special these days. We absolutely loved it when our kids were that age. We had the privilege of watching our youngsters learn new things that we took for granted. Observing their little discoveries brought us great joy.

The cheerful greetings our toddlers gave us in those days are gone now, but grandchildren have taken up the delightful habit. They look forward to coming to the farm to see Grandma and Grandpa. We enjoy sharing our lives with them.

One of our toddler grandsons is 2 years old. His language skills are limited. But one word we can easily recognize is, “Papa.” It means. “Grandpa.”

Grandpa works out of doors. He comes indoors for breakfast, lunch and supper. Our grandson waits expectantly when the basement door slams shut. That is Grandpa’s door.

Now, Grandpa is a fun person. He plays ball with this toddler. He can take him for tractor rides. He plays, “Hide and Seek” with his grandchildren, too. Waiting for Grandpa to come indoors comes with anticipation.

When our little guy hears the telltale “thump” of the basement door announcing that someone has come in the basement, he expectantly waits for the one he loves…Grandpa. He does not always get a glimpse of Papa, but each sign raises his hopes that pretty soon he will see his grandpa. The signs include: the light goes on in the basement; the weather radio blares the forecast and weather conditions; the water faucet gushes its chilling streams as somebody washes his or her hands; occasionally a familiar shadow slips across the wall. Patiently, with excitement building, our grandson broadens his grin and and eagerly waits for his great friend, Grandpa. Every second our the little fellow listens and waits.

All at once, Grandpa comes into view. He greets the little soul who watches intently, puts one foot up on a step and unlaces his work shoes, one at a time. Finally, he comes up the stairs. The wait is worth it! Grandpa scoops the little child up in his arms and they go to play with toys together.

Can you feel the excitement this little boy must feel? Can you imagine the joy that is welling up in his heart? Can you appreciate his focus on the one he awaits? And how about the anticipation and the hope fulfilled he experiences?

Pondering this little child’s waiting, you may agree with this thought. How nice it would be if we all looked forward to our dear Lord’s coming like a little child waits eagerly for Grandpa. How are you waiting?

There are times when Grandmas can be busy on the farm. When the grandchildren come, while they are still very young, even Grandma’s work can seem interesting to them. I had such a day.

Several of our grandchildren came to visit along with their Dad. The men and boy went to the pasture to cut firewood. The girls stayed closer to the farmhouse. The farm cats attract their attention. The youngest , however, was told to stay with Grandma in the house.

Grandma had a lot of work to do. Much of it included cooking or baking to feed the hungry crew. I set about to get the jobs done.

From the three-year-old’s little voice came, “Grandma, can I help you?”

What a sweet sentiment. But there are times when watching Grandma work is of more help than doing it with Grandma. Yet today, I did have some tasks where she could help me.

I had to bake a cake. All three girls helped with that. Licking the spoons was the best part. Then we worked together on the frosting. With that finished the older girls tired of the kitchen and trekked out of doors to pet the kitties.

With my pot of chili con carne steaming on the stove, one more job rested on my shoulders. I had to clean raspberries. Now, raspberries are yummy. I think so, the kids think so…and so do the raspberry bugs! There was plenty of work ahead.

From my littlest granddaughter, again I heard, “Grandma, can I help?”

What a blessing to have help! But the little helper needed instructions. So, we began. I told her about the raspberry bugs hiding inside the berries. The 3-year old sweetheart got the idea. So as she worked, she picked up a berry from its watery resting place. She examined the juicy, red bundle and looked deeply into its center. When she discovered it was empty, she piped up, “There ‘s no bug.”

She moved on to the next berry. Again I heard her say, “There’s no bug.” And so it went till a bug darkened the inside of her berry. Grandma helped her rectify the situation and she continued to reach for a new berry and announce with satisfaction, “There’s no bug.”

Many may think that this was not a big deal. But someday I hope our little helper can look back and remember the time she helped Grandma clean berries. She may recall the value of observation and perseverance. I hope, too, that she will feel the sense of satisfaction in doing a job thoroughly and well done.

To me, it was delightful to hear the clear child’s voice declare, “There’s no bug.” And I will be glad that when we eat the red raspberries we can be reasonably confident that there are no bugs. Even berry-cleaning turned out to be quality time with my granddaughter.

Looking ahead we see December waiting in the wings. A family favorite day is celebrating our Lord’s birth, Christmas! For sending your fondest holiday greetings, we have a selection of cards that focus on Christmas and winter.

Fall is here officially. Most of the haying is finished. However, as we leave this part of farming, let me tell you a few hints for successful “Loading of a Hay Wagon.”

If you have never had the job or pleasure to load a hay wagon, you may have questions. You see, riding a wagon is not easy. The wagon does not have springs on it to make your ride a soft one. One tip is that while you ride afoot on the wagon, do not lock your knees. It will take time to develop the skill to ride with confidence. So be patient, your skill will develop and become much more comfortable with time and experience. You may have heard about how sailors have to develop their “sea legs”. Well, it is the same here. You will have to get “wagon legs”.

To get your “wagon legs”, the key is proper placement of your feet and how you stand on them. Stand with your feet at least shoulder-width apart with one foot in front of the other. How far in front will vary with the terrain and the likelihood of braking. Also stand with your weight forward on the the balls of your feet.

Be prepared to adjust your stance as needed during turning and going up or down hills. Keep alert to avoid accidents.

Between loads get a drink of water to keep yourself hydrated.

Hay baler at work making square bales

Be sure to use shoes that will not slip on the stray pieces of hay which will break off from the bales. My daughter uses old tennis shoes. They work for her. My husband uses chore boots. Both styles get the job done.

You may prefer to wear loose clothing that you are willing to get dirty. Consider whether or not you want to wear long-sleeve shirts or short-sleeve shirts. Long-sleeves prevent scratching on your arms, but short-sleeves are cooler. You will probably want to use work gloves for protecting your hands while grabbing the twine.

When you pile the bales, be sure to pack them tightly. If a load is not stable, the greater the chance for the bales to fall off in transit and force you to put them back on and stack them when the wagon is no longer in motion. Being in motion provides good momentum for stacking well.

An essential part of the work day and ensuring it goes smoothly is listening to the baler. Both the driver and the stacker must be alert to any abnormal noises that could delay the work. In addition, is the need to watch what is going on at both ends. The two working the rig are seeing things from different perspectives. The driver can see if the hay is getting picked up or stuck in the baler. The stacker can see if the knotter is slipping knots or losing the twine. This is definitely a team-effort.

I hope these observations for successful loading bales on your wagon are helpful to you. Always use caution as you work.

Nineteen pregnant cows were sold that day. They were taken to another small dairy about a half-hour’s drive from Heritage Farm. Hopefully, they will be well-cared for and produce a lot of milk and offspring for many years to come. Five more non-pregnant cows will be sold on August 26. We will be keeping one of my favorites to provide “house milk” for the winter.

It was cows that kept me disciplined and motivated. It was the cows’ offspring that taught our children responsibility in caring for animals. Cows taught us many lessons about life and death.

Wendy knew how hard it would be for me to sell our cows. She had contacted many of our relatives and friends to inform them of the event. On the morning of the sale, she followed me around recording what had been my normal routine for so many years. Our daughter stayed home from work as the cows were being loaded to support me during that time. An elder daughter and her family arrived (after driving 3 ½ hours) just as the last cow was being loaded. They provided a very helpful distraction for that afternoon and the next day. Over the past week many relatives and friends have stopped by, called or sent a note to helped me get through this tough time. We are blessed to have so many special people in our lives.

So this is now the end on an era. I am not sure what the Lord has planned for the future of Heritage Farm. Heritage Farm has been a dairy farm for almost 100 years. It has been successful as a dairy farm. I am so thankful the Lord allowed me the privilege of living and working with dairy cows on Heritage Farm. Psalm 16:5, 6 states, “The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup. Thou holdest my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Yea, I have a goodly heritage.”

Visit our store and the catalog for card designs from Grabau Heritage Farm.

Most of Heritage Farm’s dairy cows were sold on August 9, 2016. It was an emotional day for me. I had milked those cows or their ancestors for more than 38 years. It was the production from those cows that had made it possible for Wendy and me to raise our children on this farm.

The ancestors of those cow, milked by Norman and Judy Grabau had provided income for the family I grew up in and even my grandparents, Ernest and Selma Grabau, had raised their family with ancestors of the cows we recently sold. For me, it was like selling part of my family.

As a young couple, we arrived back at Heritage Farm in 1978 to begin the process of taking over the farm from my parents. People told Dad and me that a thirty-cow herd would never produce enough milk to support all of us. We were told we either we had to get bigger or get out of business. They were wrong.

For the last 38 years our small herd provided almost our entire income. Neither my wife nor I ever held an off-the-farm responsibility that gave us a significant income. The income our cows produced allowed us to work together on our farm and raise our four children. It was the milk our cows produced that made it possible for our children to attend Christian schools (elementary, high school and college.) Our cows and the blessing of the Lord keep us from being obligated to a financial institution for most of those 38 years.
photo credits Wenda Grabau